30 Days (snippet)
by thedancingcrown
Summary: She hands him a cigarette to settle his craving, and, Jason figures, it's only polite to thank her properly. (rated T for safety)


**A/N: **I'm uploading this because it's haunting my brain and I need to be rid of it. Apparently that's equivalent to letting it loose upon the world. Who knew.  
>So, I had it in my head to write a multi-chapter JasCas fanfic...I don't know if I want to anymore, I figure I'd probably just mess it up somehow and get everyone wrong or the plot would suck or something *shrug* and I don't know if anyone would even want to read it. So there's that. But, if I was going to, this would be part of it. It's one of a few scenes I've thought up, but the only one I ever actually wrote down. Like my other <em>Batman<em> one-shots, it's mostly a study in character, all experimental and potentially awful, and this one especially fits absolutely nowhere in any kind of canon whatsoever.  
>Please don't hesitate to tell me what you think :)<br>(also, as a random side, I use the phrase_ feeling like a small eternity_ way too often...)

* * *

><p><strong>{cigarette}<strong>

Standing behind her she wouldn't be able to see – to _tell_ – what he meant to do, so a pleasant surprise it might be, and he was, childishly, looking forward to seeing a blush cross her gold-skinned cheeks.

Thus he leaned forward over her shoulder, intent on planting a peck on her cheek, but, to his own surprise, met her lips instead.

She recoiled at once, to the clearly unexpected touch, but it had been enough – he'd already felt the velvety soft of her skin, tasted the sweetness of her flesh.

He was acutely aware of the blush creeping up under his own cheeks, even as his eyes scanned eagerly for the pink on hers. He was satisfied to find it, glowing against the pale brown of her skin.

For a moment, feeling to his beating heart – quite suddenly thundering in his chest, his ears – like a small eternity, they stood frozen in each other's airspace, while the increasing pink on her face threatened to tug the corner of his mouth into a smug smile.

Finally, when he could no longer resist the urge, he turned it into an arrogant little smirk as best he could, ignoring his own flaming skin – all the way up to his ears – and deluding himself that she wouldn't – _hadn't_ – notice.

"Hey, my intentions were innocent," he mock defended, straightening and raising a hand, palm up. "You turned your head; it's your own fault."

He looked away pointedly, chin held high, still smirking, but… he _had_ to glance back down at her, to see her reaction.

She had her eyes narrowed at him, full lips pursed, one eyebrow raised – and the entire expression betrayed in ferocity by her scarlet blush.

He tried _really hard_ not to grin; to turn a meek, remorseful expression on her – doubtless it didn't work.

She could see right through him.

In a display of annoyance, she whipped her head back around, black hair bouncing, so he could no longer see her face, and crossed her arms defiantly.

Jason shrugged, seemingly unperturbed, and added, "Let's just call it a freebie and live with it."

He watched her shift her weight, move her head in a manner that had him thinking she was rolling her eyes at him. He imagined she was smiling, and so smiled, too—

Grinned goofily at the horizon while the erratic drumbeat in his chest dwindled down to a steady rhythm.

Finally he remembered the cigarette in his hand and broke the comfortable silence with a mumbled, "Where's my lighter…?"

He patted down his jacket, only to pause when she held it out to him, a tiny flame already flickering in front of his face.

"How did you even…?" he muttered, glancing at her back – she hadn't turned to face him.

_"Black, Red,"_ Barbara's voice buzzed in his ear, as he knew it did hers, too. _"Time to move."_

"On it," she mumbled quietly into her radio, and her voice echoed in his ear. Soft, but melodic.

The lighter shut with an audible click before he could think to reach for it, and was gone from his vision in a blink.

"That's mine," he accused, only half-heartedly, and she shot him a look over her shoulder even as she started away. Challenging. Unimpressed.

He spared the unlit cigarette he'd had such a craving for one last longing glance before stuffing it inside his jacket, "Well, damn."

She was already halfway across the rooftop.

"Don't wait up or anything," he scathed as he followed in her wake.

She paused, crouched on the parapet, to smirk at him over her shoulder – playful and enticing.

It was the adrenalin. In anticipation of their – _very_ serious, _very_ important – mission—

She dropped, gracefully, from the building, her lithe, black-clad form swinging through the night.

—that was the only reason. The only reason for his heart's renewed cacophony of clapping.


End file.
